Petty Gods
by Kyth
Summary: Two gods will go to any length to settle the Eternal Dispute - well, as long as it doesn't cut into Trias' drinking time. A [soon-to-be] parody on our beloved RPG cliches. Hey, if Valtaires can eat Pikachu, it can't be that bad, can it?
1. Prologue

In the beginning there was only the foul, pervasive touch of the Dark One, known only as the Unholy Blight. To speak his true name would bring his evil eye upon thee, a most undesirable act. The Unholy Blight ruled all atop his throne. Clad in raiments of the deepest night, he walked the land, leaving death and ruination in his wake. And so the peoples of Asgard didst live in fear of their Dark God, and did beseech the heavens for salvation.  
  
Trias, our Lord of the Light, did hear these prayers, and his heart did fill with righteous fury. Taking up his blessed weapons, he girded himself for battle with the Unholy Blight. Mounted astride his winged steed, he descended from the heavens in a shower of light. And the peoples' hearts did fill with wonder at the sight of him, and the Unholy Blight did look upon the face of his rival and knew that his doom was upon him. Hefting his Spear of Purest Light, Trias did smite the Unholy Blight and drove him from the land. Guided by the benevolent hand of Trias, the Divine Protector, the peoples of the land wanted for nothing. Trias, the Eternal Provider, sheltered the peoples and showed them the ways of the world, thus ensuring their self-reliance. And so it came to pass that Asgard did become a land of peace and prosperity for all with the Light in their heart.  
  
But Beware! for although the Unholy One was cast from this mortal coil and banished to the shadows of the Abyss, his foul presence lingers still in the hearts of men. Be ever faithful to Trias; be ever faithful to the Church of Light, Trias' presence on this world. Obey always their edicts, for they speak the words of Trias, and He is ever noble and just…  
  
-From The Teachings of Trias, vol. XII 


	2. Divine Poker

"It appears that I win again. This just isn't your game, Trias…" Xan chuckled softly as he gathered up his winnings yet again. His side of the table was beginning to groan alarmingly under the weight of his winnings. 'Of course, I'm beginning to think that you don't have a game…"  
  
Trias belched dismissively in response (it should be noted that Trias, through long centuries of practice, had in fact gained quite a range in belch tone), and took another drought from his ale glass. Well, more like keg. "Bah! I'sh playing wid yoo! Ish all…ish all…" he leaned forward conspiratorially, "Strategery! Yesh sir, ol' Triash is gonna swoop in like…eagle!" He spread his arms and made what he considered to be suitably eagle-like noises. "An' when I foolsh ev'ryone, I'sh gonna play double-or- nothing! An' win it all back! Cuz Trias hash…mad skillz!" He leaned in again, giving Xan a nudge and a wink as he did so. "But…" he glanced around and lowered his voice to a whisper (a drunk man's whisper, which is to say he had already shouted Xan's ear off and was now proceeding to stomp on it), "don't tell Xan! He'sh tricky like fox!" More animal pantomimes. "Ish our little secret, eh Xan? Now lesh deal da cards! Trias feeling lucky tonight!" He pumped a fist into the air. He then proceeded to be sick all over Xan's shiny floor.  
  
The two sat at opposite ends of a polished oaken table within Xan's abode. To be perfectly honest, the operative word would be lair. One doesn't find terribly many 'abodes' in the Lower Reaches of the Abyss. And Xan, being the Unholy Blight and all, wasn't too fond of flower walkways and freshly scented foyers to begin with. He lived in a glorified cave, of the kind usually associated with dark sorcerers – only they couldn't hold a candle to this. The cave itself was gargantuan, easily the size of several palaces stuck together. The ceiling towered hundreds of feet up, lost in the murk and gloom, the only sign of its presence an occasional drip of water from on high – or at least, that's what Xan's more squeamish visitors assumed. Suffice to say, their theory wouldn't hold up to prolonged investigation. Such observation would have been complicated by the poor lighting system, consisting mainly of hundreds of candles, all placed within grinning skulls. A mixed blessing, as Trias was far more comfortable without seeing the beasts that accompanied the constant wails and growls. No entrance or exit was visible, but that hardly posed a problem – gods seldom use conventional doors.  
  
Seeing these two gods together, however, would have given the Church of Light a collective apoplexy. For one thing, it was hardly in Church doctrine that Trias, the Lord of the Light, and Xan, the Unholy Blight, were poker-buddies. Although, many would consider that sermon a vast improvement over the current ones. For another, it would have completely undermined Church teachings. Undermined them, melted them down, and forged them into limited-edition commemorative coins. As the Church taught, Xan was a hideous, many-tentacled beast, with a visage horrid enough to scare the most hardened monsters. Conversely, Trias was a shining Warrior of Light, clad in garments bright as the morning sun; with his Divine Spear he championed all causes just and noble. In short, the two were held to be as different as night and day.  
  
True, they did make an incongruous pair – inasmuch as a rabbit riding a donkey is an incongruous pair. Xan was the epitome of style and grace. He had given up the monster form aeons ago – as he said, if it couldn't hold a damn teacup and the crumpets at the same time, it wasn't worth having. He possessed a type of striking charisma – the kind that evades description with mere words. Upon closer examination, it wasn't so much his height - at full height he barely reached a horse's shoulders – as his bearing. Seldom riled and even more seldomly amused, he carried himself with a quiet assurance. His clothes were always impeccably clean – and always impeccably black (some stereotypes just don't die). From his black boots to the flowing silver-lined cloak, not one speck of dust existed. Of course, after that incident all those years ago, dust lived in mortal fear of him. His actual features would be impossible to describe – they seemed to constantly shift and flicker from one to another. Something in the eyes, however, revealed the inner demon…  
  
Trias, on the other hand, would have mortified his followers if they ever caught sight of him. He couldn't have fit into his Holy Armor had he tried – unless, of course, they fastened in onto him with rope. He'd let himself go after that final climactic battle, and, well, had grown - just the slightest bit - corpulent (in other words, he was as broad as a barn). His Divine Spear he used as a toothpick. His Shining Garments were stained with ale and other, less savory, tidbits. He was also, to put it mildly, a drunken lech. Several centuries ago the Church had outlawed liquor. Trias, being the just and noble god he had been at that time, decided to try the substance to see for himself what the fuss was about. Suffice to say, he'd taken to the bottle like a fish to water. Luckily for all involved, he was a happy drunk (you really don't want to see a blubbering Ultimate Power…). The womanizing had started up as a result…unfortunately [for him], women, mortal or demi-god, aren't exactly attracted to inebriated gluttons. But let it never be said that Trias, Font of Perseverance, gives up hope (a passage, amusingly enough, from Church doctrine)!  
  
Presently, the pair was playing a rousing round of blackjack. They had been playing poker, but Trias had passed into the final stages of inebriation, and had had an inordinately difficult time establishing why the Queen had 'picked that girly King over me'. As such, they had switched to the less mentally-challenging blackjack, and Xan was dealing the current game; in essence, all that was required of Trias was for him to fork over his money.  
  
"Gimme da cards!" Trias hollered, pounding the table with his ale glass.  
  
"The correct term is 'Hit me', brother…" Xan spit out through his forced smile.  
  
Trias' eyes widened. Tears began to roll down his cheeks. "I'sh never do dat! I loves you! I'sh," he expanded, waving his arms to encompass the entire cave, "loves ev'ryone!"  
  
Xan blinked. Shaking his head and muttering to himself – something about Spears of Unholy Flame and eternal torment – he proceeded to dole out the cards. "So, how are things up on the surface, brother dear?" he asked bitterly.  
  
"You should go ups yourshelf, Xan! Ish loverly this time of year, like…like a tavern girl!" Trias gushed, waxing poetic.  
  
Xan's hand twitched, sending a Jack flying onto Trias' ample belly. Small screams could be heard as the doomed card sank into his gut, never to be seen again. "Be that as it may, I am unable. If you remember, it was you who banished me here, all those years ago - all those tons ago…" he added in a whisper to himself.  
  
"Oh, right! I'sh forgets sometimes!" Trias laughed heartily. "At leash we have dese brudderly moments…" he consoled himself by pouring another drink.  
  
Xan clenched his teeth. These 'brotherly moments' were hardly his by choice. Trias – indeed, the whole bloody world, if they chose to – could jaunt in whenever the desire struck him; Xan had no power to stop him. Nowadays, it seemed he had no power to do anything. That damned brother of his had ruined everything… He contemplated his current dismal circumstances, taking no notice of the blood running out of the corner of his mouth and dripping down onto his table – where many such stains dotted the surface.  
  
"Psst! X~a~n!" Trias yelled in a stage whisper, startling Xan out of his dark reverie. "We playing? I'sh ready to win!" He grinned toothily, revealing less-than-pristine teeth.  
  
Xan took a moment to survey the cards, smiling inwardly. He wouldn't need to cheat to win this round (Trias had lost the ability to count accurately two hours and ten drinks ago, making winning pathetically easy). "You have a 12. I have a 21. Blackjack again for me…" He made to grab Trias' few remaining coins.  
  
"HA! Da game's not over yet! Gimme a card, I'sh feeling lucky!" Trias demanded, hunching over his few precious coins.  
  
"…No, I won. The game is over." Xan reiterated. He reached for the coins again.  
  
Trias began to sob. Huge, racking sobs.  
  
"Fine," Xan sighed. "You can have one more card. One." He tossed one over to Trias.  
  
"Ha, now I'll show you lucky!" Trias roared. With drunken precision, he flipped the card over. His eyes widened. "Ish dat King! You stoled my girl, you rat! I'll kill you!" Gathering his energy, he raised the Divine Toothpick and blasted the King to oblivion. "Now…whatsh the King worth?" he asked innocently, trying vainly to cover the gaping hole in the table.  
  
Xan dropped his face into his hands. He'd been exiled to a cave in the Abyss for all eternity, forced to spend weekends with this drunken idiot, and now he had to contend with property damage. Taking his brother's money wasn't nearly satisfying enough. Calming himself with promises of bloody vengeance, Xan raised his head and replied. "A…uh, eleventy forty two. You went over 21, brother, that's a bust for you."  
  
"And what a bust it ish…" Trias whistled, ogling the Queen.  
  
"That's it, I have to get out of this!" Xan hissed as he gathered Trias' last few coppers. A plan began to form within the dark recesses of his mind.  
  
"You know, brother," he began sweetly, "I have just realized that you rarely…that you never…win these friendly games of ours. How unfortunate that is…  
  
"Ish nothing," Trias replied, waving a dismissive hand. "Da Church tithes have to go to something. So I thought, 'Trias, dose priests are just gonna gamble dat money. I should keeps track of it for dem.' And so I'sh –"  
  
"Shut up!" Xan yelled. "Ahem. I mean, you certainly have a valid point there." Trias preened. "Now, I had thought that – focus here, brother. Now, I had thought – stop staring at that card! It was my opinion that – STOP THAT!!" Xan snapped irritably. Taking Trias' ale pitcher and the Queen, he planted them firmly in front of him. Trias' gaze followed him like a vulture.  
  
"Now," he began again, "I think it would be much more interesting for the both of us if we changed to nature of these little games of ours. Mere card tricks are hardly suitable for such as we, don't you agree? Of course you do," he said airily, overriding Trias' objections, "and I think it high time we indulged in activities suitable for our station, don't you? …Yes, you can answer!" Xan snapped. Leave it to Trias to ruin his momentum…  
  
"Suit…suit…okey-dokey for us, eh? Whatsh you have in mind? Ladysh?" Trias perked up quite a bit at the thought.  
  
Xan's eye began to twitch. "No, and considering that I don't want to be here all day – oh wait, I'm here forever! – I might as well just explain it myself. I propose a friendly wager – something to answer the eternal debate of Good vs. Evil. Now, the last time we fought was hardly fair…I had a headache. As another such battle would most likely lay waste to the world, that is out of the question." I need something to rule over with an iron fist, after all. "As such, I lay before you a suggestion: we shall each choose one…or rather, make that two, champions to fight at our behest. Well?" he asked smugly. Trias never could turn down a good fight – living vicariously, one could assume.  
  
Trias made a great show of thinking it over, as only a drunk could. "Hmm…if ish what you want, I'sh have no problems wid doing it," he slurred indifferently.  
  
Xan secretly exulted. That took care of Phase One of the plan – and if he fell for Phase One, he couldn't possibly resist Phase Two…  
  
"Of course, to spice things up a little, there should be some sort of wager involved…now, what can it be~?" Xan pondered aloud, his eyes glazing over as he considered this problem. Trias took the opportunity to take a small nap. After some time – time holds no meaning to a god, after all – Xan bolted out his chair and slammed a fist onto the table. "AHA! If I win, you release me from this damnable prison for one year and a day! After all, you did say it was lovely on the surface at this time of year…" he added persuasively. Time enough for world domination, Xan inwardly chuckled. Especially when the only competition gets beaten up by barmaids on a regular basis.  
  
Sloshed Trias may have been, but he wasn't that big a fool.  
  
"You knows I can't do dat!" Trias told his brother sternly, shaking his head.  
  
"And if you win," Xan went on, brushing aside Trias' vehement objections, "I'll supply you with liquor for all eternity…"  
  
"Done!" Trias proclaimed without a second thought. When it came down to the world's peace and prosperity or liquor, he was of the opinion that the former was a result of the latter.  
  
…'Fool' is such a subjective word…  
  
Xan nodded calmly, as if it was of no great matter to him. Inwardly, he was indulging in his evil laughter. And the happy dance. A truly lethal combination, indeed.  
  
"Now, as we want this to be truly accurate, I suggest we take our time choosing these champions. No need to choose the wrong subject in haste, after all. We can hold this one month from today, on whatever day it is up there." Xan leaned back in his chair and waited for his brother's assent.  
  
"Sounds fine to me…" Trias began hesitantly.  
  
"But…? Just spit it out!" Xan snapped.  
  
"Where?" he asked.  
  
"Oh honestly!" Xan sighed, raising a martyred gaze to the heavens – wherever they happened to be. "What do you have in your mouth now!? Spit it out on your own floor! I'll have clean wood shavings you bastard!" Xan screamed, shaking his fist at Trias.  
  
"Um…wh-where ish da fight…?" Trias clarified, stuttering nervously. His brother was prone to fits, which usually consisted of him jumping up and down on Trias and swearing bloody vengeance on all who would defile his clean wood shavings.  
  
"Oh…" Xan blinked. Then he blinked again. "Er…actually, that's a decent question. It should be on neutral ground…" He paused to honestly consider this unexpected problem. "I don't suppose you know of a –" He cut Trias off. "No, we need someplace without topless girls, if that was your suggestion."  
  
Trias closed his mouth.  
  
"Well, we could always – no, that's too horrible to consider…" Xan shuddered.  
  
"What?" Trias asked curiously. Anything that frightened Xan was worthy of note.  
  
Xan uttered one word, a word of such sheer terror, such awful might, that it had been methodically excised from all records, mortal and divine, aeons ago. A word that, until now, had dwelt in the mists of time, merely a dark reminder of darker times…  
  
"Cadmus." 


	3. The Stage Is Set

"Are you alive, brother?" Xan asked, poking his comatose brother with a stick. One could always hope, after all.  
  
"…Yes…" Trias mumbled groggily, sitting up. He soon wished he hadn't. Somewhere along the line he'd gone from roaring drunk to apocalyptic hangover.  
  
"Oh, damn…er, I mean, what great fortune!" Xan hastily corrected himself. "You passed out immediately after I mentioned Cad – our other brother," he finished lamely. Much as he would have leapt at the chance to have an unconscious Trias in his grasp, he had important matters to attend to.  
  
"Cad…Cad…him!? I thought we agreed never to mention him again!" Trias shuddered, glancing around the cavern nervously.  
  
Cadmus. A name to strike fear into the hearts of the bravest warriors, the cruelest necromancers. A name all the more sadistic for the images of frolicking bunnies it evoked. A name belonging the to the most fearsome of gods, for he –  
  
"He's not right in the head!" Trias added in a stage whisper. "You remember all those suggestions he had when we were making this world! I still have nightmares!"  
  
"I wasn't aware you could dream during alcohol-induced comas…" Xan sniped.  
  
"I'm serious!" Trias snapped. When he wasn't falling-down drunk, Trias was actually a focused person. The problem being, he was always falling-down drunk. "Why would you even suggest we ask for his help?!"  
  
Xan put on his best conciliatory air. "Well, you of all people should appreciate the need for a fair fight. You do realize that there isn't any neutral ground on our world. We both have our spheres of influence, and so the fight would be fundamentally lopsided one way or the other. We don't want that, now do we?" Xan paused to think over his last statement. "Well, in any case, you don't want that, now do you? Of course, I'd be pleased to hold the fight on my territory," he offered unctuously.  
  
"That only works when I'm drunk, I'll have you know. I'm not – wait, our world?" Trias paled. "You don't mean to imply…"  
  
"I imply nothing. I'm telling you: Cadmus went off and made his own world- Don't you pass out on me again!" Xan reached over and proceeded to kick his brother until he awoke. Then he kicked him some more for dramatic emphasis. "Now, as I was saying, Cadmus has created his own world. And what could be more neutral than the God of Neutrality's playpen?" Xan asked rhetorically.  
  
"Um…well, I suppose…but it's Cadmus! Cadmus!!" Trias reiterated, beginning to hyperventilate once more.  
  
"Things would be so much easier if people simply did as I commanded them," Xan softly mused. "I don't ask for much, just unquestioning obedience, world dominion, maybe some love slaves…" He trailed off, eyes glazing.  
  
"You say something? Been holding out on me in the love slave department, eh?" Trias chortled, nudging his brother in the chest. Gods of Truth and Justice technically can't have love slaves. And Trias didn't. But he had nothing against admiring the scenery.  
  
"Death…Ruination…eh? What?" Xan blinked, started out of his pleasant daydream. "Oh, you. Whatever you just asked, the answer is either 'No, I I'm not giving you any more liquor', or 'No, even succubi don't come here'. Now, onto business. I've, er, spoken with Cadmus recently-"  
  
"Is he here?!" Trias shrieked, diving under the table and huddling into a ball. The sound of whimpers drowned out the growls and wails in the background.  
  
"Yes, I invited him here after all the trouble we went through to get rid of him," Xan drawled dryly. "Oh, do get up. I only enjoy seeing you whimper in abject pain and humiliation. Seeing you cower like a rabbit is just pathetic."  
  
Trias cautiously climbed back into his chair, eyeing the shadows suspiciously. He got up and grabbed his Divine Spear (only a toothpick when sloshed) before seating himself and speaking. "Alright, so you spoke with C- Cadmus. What did he say?" Trias asked nervously, clutching his spear closer.  
  
"Oh, he seemed…he was much better," Xan lied glibly. In truth, he hadn't understood much through the constant maniacal laughter and gnashing of teeth. But, no need to worry his brother unnecessarily…  
  
"And so you see, it's perfectly safe," he continued. "Now, what do you say?"  
  
"Um, well, in that case I guess the answer is yes…" Trias said doubtfully, still unconvinced.  
  
"Trias, Trias, Trias," Xan said mournfully, shaking his head slowly. "Would I lie to you?"  
  
Trias blinked. Then he began to snicker.  
  
"You know what I mean!" Xan snapped, irate.  
  
Guffaws.  
  
"Oh, shut up!"  
  
Hysterical floor-beating.  
  
"SHUT UP BEFORE I RIP YOUR TONGUE OUT AND HANG YOU WITH IT!!"  
  
…Silence…  
  
"Ahem," Xan coughed delicately. "I meant, I stand to benefit at least as much as you from this. I wouldn't pull any tricks, I assure you."  
  
"Well, you have a point. I'm in, then. See you in one month, brother!" Trias slapped his knees and got up. After gathering his things – mainly, his spear and ale glass – and several things that weren't quite his – mainly, the ale keg – he stretched and walked off towards one of the walls. He reached the wall – and kept on going. The wall twisted and undulated, returning to its original shape in seconds.  
  
After assuring himself that his brother was indeed gone, Xan sat back and poured himself a drink. His peals of laughter rang off the cavern walls, silencing the creatures in the shadows.  
  
* * * *  
  
"Entropy! Come here, I have a task for you!" Xan called out, in high spirits. For once, things were going his way.  
  
A shadow detached itself from the far wall and…slithered, would be the most appropriate term…towards Xan. Its figure was vaguely serpentine, and it had no discernable arms or legs. Beyond that, its features were nebulous, undefined.  
  
"Yessss, masster?" it inquired in a sibilant whisper.  
  
"I have a task for you. You were listening?" Xan asked. He didn't like having to explain himself. After the first few incidents, his remaining Minions had gotten the idea.  
  
Entropy nodded. "Yesss, masster. That fool believesss you ssshal play fair, no?" It laughed, an odd, high-pitched wailing noise.  
  
"Oh, I'll play fair all right!" Xan chortled, pouring himself another drink. Wine, of course.  
  
Entropy cocked its head to the side. "Masssster?" it asked curiously.  
  
"I make it a point not to reveal my evil schemes, but considering that there aren't any heroes, damsels in distress, or plucky sidekicks present, I suppose I can make an exception. I was indeed at Cadmus' world – as generally strange as one would expect from him. That, of course, gives me a marked advantage over my foolish brother.  
  
Now all I need is to pick appropriate champions. I need someone suitably…insane. Any suggestions?" Xan asked, gesturing for his servant to speak. It wasn't wise to speak unless spoken to.  
  
"Insssane, you sssay? Might I sssssuggessst Assssrael?" Entropy hissssed…er, hissed.  
  
"As- Azrael? The name sounds familiar. Describe him!" Xan ordered.  
  
"He issss the insssane one, masssster. Hissssss-"  
  
"BLOODY HELL, WOULD YOU STOP THAT INCESSANT HISSING?!" Xan shrieked, throwing his wine goblet at Entropy. That vein above his eye began to pump again.  
  
"Yesss-yes, master," it hastily complied, throwing itself to the floor in obeisance. "He is the one you take such delight in mocking. He keeps hideous beasts chained in torture chambers located dangerously close to his throne room, and he always sends letters to heroes if he is unable to reveal hiss-his evil plan to them in person. Is this helpful?" It raised its head hopefully.  
  
Xan's eyes lit up. He jumped out of chair and began to dance around the cavern. "Yes, it's almost too perfect! Fetch him for me immediately! …What are you still doing here!? FETCH HIM!!" Xan stopped dancing long enough to fix a hard a stare upon his cowering servant.  
  
"Yess, massster!" Entropy bowed deeply, then made a beeline for the nearest wall.  
  
"Ha! My fool brother's so-called champions won't last a second on that world! This Azrael fellow is perfect! But…" Xan stopped waltzing, dropping his invisible partner in the process. He frowned and began to pace around his cavern. "But perhaps he is too perfect. A fool is needed, but asking him to do whatever he wants is most likely asking too much from one such as he. I shall need someone to supervise him…but who?…AHA!" Xan stopped mid-stride, his eyes lighting up. Turning to face a nearby shadow, he called out, "Discord! I have need of you as well!"  
  
A stunningly feminine shape emerged from the shadows nearby. She had the kind of figure that starts bar fights in a five-mile radius, and her dress certainly didn't conceal that fact – it didn't conceal much of anything. Her face was perfectly formed, if one could excuse the long scar that ran from the corner of her right eye to the corner of her lip. Of course, most men weren't interested in anything above the neck…  
  
"You called, my master?" she sighed, fluttering her eyelashes.  
  
"Do save it, Discord, I'm busy fleshing out my evil schemes," Xan replied absently.  
  
"Oh, well if that's the case," she yelled, her voice sinking several octaves deeper, "could you put some more torches in here?! I'm freezing my ass off here!!" She put her hands on her hips and gave Xan her best glare.  
  
"Do shut up. If you're that cold, you should stop running around half naked – unless you're trying to seduce these handsome gentlemen here…" he waved his hand, indicating the corner of the cavern where the - less savory - ambience originated from.  
  
Discord shuddered. "I'll consider it – once you stop undressing me with your eyes!" She gave him a playful wink. He reddened.  
  
"Be that as it may," Xan coughed, hastily changing the subject, "I need you to run a small errand for me-"  
  
"If it's that small, why not get someone else? Beautiful people are supposed to glide through life! Those draft horses would be glad to, I'm sure!" she wheedled, gesturing towards the same corner. The growling intensified.  
  
"A small task for a small mind," Xan shot back dryly. "Now-"  
  
"Just what do you mean by small mind!?" she roared in her best drill sergeant voice.  
  
"Now, now," Xan said placatingly, "we both know that your *ahem* figure sucked all the energy out of your head – you can't have both. Rest assured, you received the best of the deal…" Xan finished, his gaze dropping down despite his best efforts. Discord settled back down, her feathers suitably de-ruffled.  
  
"Now," he continued, "as much as I appreciate our witty repartee, this task is vital. I need you to journey to the Tantras Mountains and find someone for me."  
  
"Find someone? Who?" she asked curiously.  
  
"Oh, you'll know him when you see him," Xan replied with a small smile. "Merely look for a peak with a large cavern atop it. Enter it, he should be inside. If I've kept track correctly, he should be sleeping. Awaken him however you wish." He turned away, indicating that the conversation was over as far as he was concerned.  
  
Discord had no such ideas. "And just what am I supposed to tell him?" she demanded, stepping in front of Xan to block his path.  
  
Xan's eye twitch started up again. "Were you even listening!?" he growled, trying to maintain his temper with little success. He always did around Discord. Chivalry lives…or some other ulterior motive, at any rate.  
  
"It takes time to maintain such a gorgeous appearance!" she sniffed, turning her nose up. "So anyway, what should I say to him?"  
  
"Xan sighed resignedly. "Tell him I have need of his services one month from today. No need for any details," he added, cutting Discord off, "as he should have his own methods of contacting me himself. Now, off with you!" He began to turn away once more.  
  
Discord interrupted him again. "He may not need any details, but I certainly do! Just what are you planning?" she demanded, stamping a foot for emphasis (and snapping her heel in the process. One can't really be dramatic in a dishcloth and high-heels).  
  
"Very well then, I give up," Xan sighed, throwing his arms in the air. "Perhaps unquestioning obedience is too much to ask from such as you!"  
  
"We don't even get paid," Discord interjected sotto voce.  
  
"But if you must know," Xan went on, ignoring Discord's continued insolence, "if this plan works, Trias will be no bar to my rise!"  
  
"Trias!?" Discord shrieked, losing her tenuous composure. "That pompous bastard ruined my beautiful face!" she seethed, fingering her scar. One thousand years ago, during Trias' final battle with Xan, an errant spear thrust had left Discord's face horribly disfigured – and had done nothing to improve her bedside manner.  
  
"Perhaps if you hadn't been so busy adjusting your mountain range, you could have dodged it…" Xan muttered to no one in particular. Living with her for the past thousand years had obliterated any sympathy he might have had for her plight.  
  
"Like I said, it takes time to maintain such a beautiful appearance!," she said haughtily, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "So I'll go – but only to teach that bastard a lesson!" she hissed through gritted teeth, a hard glint in her eyes. With a mock curtsey, she vanished into the wall once more…  
  
…And reappeared a moment later.  
  
"Um, I've just remembered that I forgot to ask where these mountains are," she said, laughing nervously.  
  
Xan's form began to flicker and swell.  
  
"ButI'llfindthemmyselfdon'tyouworry!" she hastily replied, running back into the wall.  
  
Xan deflated and uttered a heartfelt sigh. "And they wonder why Evil never wins…" 


	4. Enter Azrael

Entropy surveyed his current surroundings with no small measure of bemusement. He stood just outside Azrael's Fortress – fortress being the only adequate word to describe it. He had originally intended to storm through the nearby towns and scare the information out of the villagers; unfortunately, there was no fun to be had this day. The townsfolk had taken one look at him and, after some discreet snickering and finger-pointing, had directed him straight here. With good reason, as was now apparent.  
  
The Fortress was a huge, hulking structure, rising into the clouds like some grotesque spider. It defied the eye to find one smooth curve, one straight line. It was a solid mass of twisted spikes and disjointed lines, as if the architect had left it unfinished (he had, in fact. Azrael had had him executed so his Fortress could never be mapped or copied – unfortunately, said Fortress wasn't quite complete. The story of his life…). From the parapets there loomed hideous gargoyles – many of which seemed suspiciously lifelike, especially when a squabble broke out and one came crashing down. The gate itself was elaborately decorated with sinister wards and runes. The entire structure was surrounded by a huge moat – unfilled, as apparently Azrael hadn't quite gotten the hang of keeping the water in the hole. All this in a beautifully scenic flower field, complete with swaying dandelions and adorable rabbits (…all the suitably evil territory had already been taken – and hey, it beat living with his mother…). Entropy couldn't quite decide whether it was awe-inspiring or simply ludicrous.  
  
After a brief examination of the heavily warded main gate, he deemed it too dangerous to pass. So he took the servant's entrance to the side; the help had apparently left it unlocked. He quickly passed through several of what appeared to be supply rooms before finally entering the main hall. If anything, it was even more flamboyant than the exterior. From what little he could see from the main hall, the castle interior was a morass of shifting hallways and poorly lit alcoves (granted, he could see in the dark, but it was still an inconvenience). Towering onyx sculptures of various demons and denizens of the Lower Reaches littered the hallways. Dripping wax candles were placed at key intervals – which is to say, the light was everywhere the traps weren't. And to top it all off, discordant shrieks occasionally sounded through the labyrinthine passages. Entropy felt right at home.  
  
His attention was quickly captured by an unusual creature in the far corner of the room. After closer inspection he realized it was in fact a man – albeit a hideously deformed one. His clothes were ripped and tattered far beyond the point of repair; they more resembled a dishcloth than actual garments – something Discord would likely wear, he thought amusedly. The man walked with a pronounced limp, dragging his clubfoot behind him – although it was obvious that the shoe was merely stuffed with socks. His hunchback was similarly grotesque, to the point that he was forced to walk with his head level with his abdomen – which would have been far more convincing if said hunchback didn't fall off every few minutes. To top it all off was his face – his one true claim to traditional evil. Suffice to say, his was a face mothers would feel no regret drowning at birth – if they hadn't fainted first. At the present moment, he seemed to be engrossed totally in overseeing a group of spiders, whom had apparently spun their web in the wrong alcove, disrupting his precious symmetry.  
  
The butler spotted Entropy almost immediately, and after giving his spiders a few last orders, shuffled over in his awkward gait.  
  
"What bringth you to the Mathter'th 'Fortreth of Evil~?" he lisped, stretching out the last word and making spooky gestures. "I am Igor, thervant to the great Mathter!"  
  
Entropy did his best to contain his laughter. Best not to insult the help, after all. "I have come with an important tasssk for your Massster," he informed the butler. "Take me to him immediately."  
  
Igor didn't seem to hear. "Let'th all walk over Igor," he grumbled loudly. "Igor doethn't have feelingth, oh no. Igor jutht watheth the floorth and replatheth the Manticore trapth. Jutht onthe Igor would like thomeone to thay, 'I'm here for Igor!' But ith anyone ever here for Igor? Oh, no! Tho Igor'th only friendth are the thpiderth. The thpiderth care about Igor'th feelingth!" he added accusingly, glaring at Entropy. In the corner, the spiders had just killed one of their own and were beginning to eat him.  
  
Entropy cocked his head. Perhaps this butler didn't understand the importance of his task. "You do not underssstand. My ordersss come sstraight from The Unholy Blight himssssself," he told the bitter Igor self- importantly.  
  
"Did thith 'Unholy Blight' ever have to clean the Manticore piths?!" Igor shot back.  
  
"I…ssupposssse not," Entropy replied uncertainly. He didn't like where this conversation was going. He had his orders, and he took great pride in always completing those orders. This bitter little servant was causing much too much trouble…  
  
"Oh, thith 'Unholy Blight ith tho~ important," Igor continued mockingly. "Jutht like all thothe other Evil Mathterth. 'Do thith, do that', they thay. And uth Minionth have to do thith and do that. I wath the floorth and clean thith entire cathtle. What doeth the Mathter do? He thtayth there in hith room and doeth nothing! Nothing! Oh thure, he thayth he'th planning hith 'world dominion', but Igor knowth he'th just eating all of Igor'th food! None left for Igor! Never any left for Igor! And then he laughth at Igor! Oh, how they laugh at poor Igor!" He began to sob huge, wracking sobs.  
  
For the first time in a very long time, Entropy was at a loss. He couldn't very well kill the annoying little creature without potentially angering the very person he had come to recruit. And that would hardly leave the Unholy Blight pleased – he didn't take kindly to failure. But it was so tempting…  
  
Entropy tried one last time. "If you would ssssimply take me to this Assssrael-"  
  
"Oh, thure, thay the 'thhhhhhh'. Rub it in Igor'th fathe," the diminutive butler complained bitterly. He fell back into his unintelligible muttering.  
  
Entropy started to speak again, then thought better of it. It would be far quicker – not to mention safer – to find this Azrael character without the help of the volatile butler.  
  
He was soon regretting his decision. The Fortress was a veritable Labyrinth, and was booby-trapped to boot. Igor hadn't been kidding about those Manticore traps. He soon lost track of time navigating the twists and turns; Igor's signs certainly didn't help (after several incidents, Entropy realized those 'helpful' signs led to the Manticore pits). Eventually, he found himself standing before an ornate door. Pushing it open, he found himself standing in what appeared to be a bizarre throne room.  
  
If anything, it was a mirror image of Xan's own cavern deep within the Abyss. Everything was carved from onyx, lending the room a sinister appearance. The ceiling rose into the gloom, vanishing from sight. Candles provided some meager light, but most had burnt out long ago, leaving much of the room cloaked in shadows. In terms of furnishings, the decorator had once again gone over the top. Everything was composed entirely of bones – presumably human. The tables were supported by leg bones, the candle holders were made of finger bones. And at the very end of the room, atop a raised dais, loomed the Throne. It was large as an ogre – no mean feat – and formed entirely of skulls; its' ruddy hue suggested it had been dipped in blood several times over. Entropy's respect for the man responsible rose several notches.  
  
Said man was currently pacing atop his dais, muttering to himself. He looked to be in his early thirties, although it was hard to discern in all the murk and gloom. He was rather tallish, with dark eyes and wavy black hair – dyed, it appeared. His skin was very pale, as if he hadn't seen the sun in ages. In all likelihood, he hadn't. His costume – costume being the only word for it – was outlandish in the extreme. He would have fit right in with an acting troupe. He wore a dark robe, complete with mystic runes and sigils. His cape was several feet too long, causing him to trip every time he turned around. He had to have had at least twenty rings on his gloved hands – each more garish than the last. To top it all off, he wore a winged dragon circlet around his head. Entropy's regard dropped right back down. Taking care to hide his amusement, he approached the figure and bowed deeply.  
  
"Greetingsss, Great One," he said respectfully. "I have come on behalf of the Unholy Blight to-"  
  
"You!" Azrael shouted, cutting him short. "Just how long do you think it will take me to conquer the world!?"  
  
Entropy blinked, caught off guard. "I ssupposse…when one takessss into account risssing economic tenssion, political alliancesss and treatiess, the active armiesssss of each major nation as well as necesssary funding…ssseveral decades, at the very leassst," he hazarded a guess.  
  
"Wrong!" Azrael shouted gleefully. He began to dance about the dais. "Yet another underestimates my genius! It shall take me approximately five hours and twenty-three minutes!…taking into account my tea time." He began to laugh – evilly.  
  
"How exactly sssshall you do ssso?" Entropy asked politely.  
  
"Eh?" Azrael stopped laughing long enough to fix a confused look on Entropy. "Do what?"  
  
"Take over the world in five hoursss," Entropy reiterated.  
  
"Five hours twenty-three minutes!" Azrael snapped. "And I shall do so with my almost-invincible Magical Ultimate Weapon Mark IV! Join me in my evil laughter! Mwa…mwahaha….mwahahahahaha!!"  
  
"I think I ssshal passs," Entropy declined. "Mark IV? What of the other three?"  
  
"Oh, those," Azrael waved a hand dismissively. "Those weren't nearly as almost-invincible as I had hoped. Mark I switched the fireball lever with the self-destruct button. Luckily, only Igor was near the test sight. Mark II was only quasi-invincible, to my immense displeasure. And Mark III was a major disappointment, what with the only semi-invincible armor plating…" He sighed dolefully. "But Mark IV," he added, cheering up considerably, "is truly almost-invincible!"  
  
"Why…not make it truly invincible?" Entropy asked, intrigued despite himself.  
  
"…Because we need someplace to put the self-destruct button," Azrael replied, looking at Entropy as if he were an idiot. "But never fear! I have learned from my mistakes with Mark I. This self-destruct button is clearly marked as such! Soon, the world will bow to me! Bow, peons! For I! AM! SKELETOR!" His eyes glazed over as he imagined his future successes.  
  
Entropy shook his head. He couldn't imagine why the Unholy Blight would need one such as this. It was hardly his place to argue, however…  
  
"Now, to move on to more pressssing matterss…" he began, trying to move the conversation back on track. "I came here-"  
  
"Eh? You're here?" Azrael stopped in his tracks and looked at Entropy for the first time. His eyes widened. "An intruder! A foul Servant of Justice, no doubt, seeking to foil my perfect plans! Your petty disguise shall do you no good!" He pointed an accusing finger at Entropy.  
  
"…But we were just now dissscusssing your plansss for world domination," Entropy said, puzzled by this sudden mood shift.  
  
"No more lies from you!" Azrael shrieked. "I was merely contemplating my plans aloud, when you waltz in and attempt to listen in! Think you I am too dense to notice when and when not I am speaking to someone!? You have truly underestimated me!"  
  
"No, you sssee, I was sssent here by the Unholy-" Entropy began again.  
  
"HA! You must be truly canny to have evaded the Manticore pits!" He laughed. "No matter! This shall prove a fine first test for our Magical Ultimate Weapon Mark IV! You shall witness firsthand my true power! Igor!" he screamed, the echoes reverberating off the walls.  
  
Within seconds Igor had appeared; either he had been listening at the door, or he wasn't quite as lame as he let on. He quickly shuffled up to his Master, paying the baffled Entropy no heed.  
  
"Yeth, Mathter?" Igor asked, bowing his head – not a difficult task by any stretch, considering his head was halfway to the floor under normal circumstances anyway.  
  
"This one is a spy sent by those damnable Servants of Justice to ruin my beautiful plans for world dominion!" Azrael fumed, pointing at Entropy. "He shall be the first the fall to the awful might of the Magical Ultimate Weapon Mark IV! Fetch it, and teach this insolent cur a lesson!"  
  
"Yeth, Mathter!" Igor readily agreed, flashing a nasty smile at Entropy. He quickly scurried out of the room – forgetting his supposed limp in the process. Azrael frowned and took that down for future reference.  
  
Just when Entropy had begun to assure himself that that despicable little butler had fallen into one of his own Manticore pits, the rumbling started. It grew louder and more intense as the time passed, until finally, a hideous contraption erupted from the west wall.  
  
It resembled nothing so much as a giant metal dragon. It was nearly twenty feet tall and over twice that in length. From the metal's unusual luster, it was most likely solid mithril – making it more than 'almost-invincible'. Blue runes covered the entire contraption, presumably to supply the thing with power. A single red rune sat on the dragon's chest, with the words 'Self-Destruct: Heroes Please Refrain From Touching' written above it. Igor sat atop the head, directing it via a large panel of runes.  
  
"Yes! Now you shall be destroyed! And your death shall pave the way for my new world! One in which I am sole ruler of all!" Azrael crowed, dancing on his dais in excitement.  
  
"Yeth, you thall pay for your inthenthitivity!" Igor added, moving the metal dragon forward. "No one careth about Igor'th feelingth, eh!? Igor'll thow you!! Igor'll thow the whole world!!" he screamed, pressing a large rune. The dragon stopped and began to glow slightly, gathering power for a first – and last – blow.  
  
Entropy shook his head slowly. He despised dealing with idiots. Ignoring Igor's insane ranting, he walked up the dragon and pressed the red rune.  
  
The world turned white. When the dust had finally cleared, a very battered, very dazed Igor sat amidst the remains of the Magical Ultimate Weapon Mark IV.  
  
"No, this cannot be! I AM INVINCIBLE!" Azrael shrieked, shaking a fist at the heavens.  
  
"But your Weapon wassss only almosst-invincible," Entropy pointed out.  
  
"Oh, yes, point taken," Azrael admitted, calming down immediately.  
  
"Now," Entropy asked pointedly, "if I could explain why I am here?"  
  
"One moment," Azrael said. He turned to Igor. "Igor, wake up!! I don't not pay you to lounge about doing nothing!"  
  
Igor shook his head and slowly got to his feet. "Yeth, Mathter?" he asked dazedly.  
  
"What do you mean, 'yeth mathter'?! You have completely ruined the Magical Ultimate Weapon Mark IV!"  
  
"But…it wath not me…" Igor began vainly.  
  
"Of course it was you!" Azrael snapped. "You were piloting it, and you completely destroyed my wonderful Weapon of Mass Destruction! Off to the torture chamber for you! You shall have to be punished!"  
  
"Yeth, Mathter. But, I am the Head Torturer…" Igor added.  
  
"Oh, well then, you shan't have to wait for him," Azrael said sweetly. "You can get started right away. Don't go easy just because it's you!" he added sternly before turning back to Entropy.  
  
"Yeth, Mathter," Igor sighed reluctantly. He shuffled back out the room, throwing one last baleful glare in Entropy's direction.  
  
"Now," Azrael continued, "let us forget that little misunderstanding. You obviously cannot be a hero, as you pressed the self-destruct rune which specifically ordered all heroes not to touch it! Oh, how clever I can be sometimes…" he chuckled to himself.  
  
Entropy blinked. Then he sighed. "My Massster, The Unholy Blight, hasss a propossition for you. He requir – he requessstss your servicesss one month from today. What ssssay you?"  
  
"Ha! Me, serve another?" Azrael scoffed. "And when I am so close to world dominion as well! The Magical Ultimate Weapon Mark V shall be sure to succeed! Why should I accept this proposition?"  
  
"Becausssse the Unholy Blight sssshall rend you limb fro-" Entropy began impatiently. Then he stopped. This one would probably ask him to name the time and place. Something subtler than threats was needed.  
  
"It involvesss the ssssssubjugation and eventual dominion of a world." That ought to attract his interest.  
  
Azrael's ears perked up. "World dominion, you say? You might have mentioned that sooner! I shall join with this Master of yours! And when I have conquered that world, I shall return to claim this one! Mwa…mwaha…mwahahahaha!!"  
  
Entropy sighed once more. He hoped Discord was having as unpleasant a time as he. 


	5. Enter Llaen

As a matter of fact, Discord was. She had been searching for Xan's mysterious friend for well over a week now with no luck. The Tantras Mountains had quite a history behind them – one Discord would have rather forgotten – and being here for such a contracted time brought all the memories rushing back.  
  
Popular belief held that the final battle between Good and Evil (or Trias and Xan…close enough) had been held here one thousand years ago. At that time no mountains had existed; instead, rolling plains had stretched on for as far as the eye could see. Hundreds of small farming communities had dotted the pastoral landscape. Trias and Xan, however, had changed all that. Their battle had flung up great gouts of earth and rock, forming the majestic peaks and scenic valleys that now occupied the land. Or so popular belief held. Fingering her scar, Discord knew it to be more than a mere legend.  
  
Regardless, the Tantras Mountains were no place for the faint of heart. Shortly after their creation, the villagers – those who had survived, at any rate – began to explore and colonize the peaks. Not only did it possess natural springs and plants and animals aplenty, but it also contained an intricate maze of interconnected caverns. It was the ultimate bastion, a completely impregnable fortress.  
  
Unfortunately, they weren't the only ones who had come to that conclusion. Shortly after they had settled down, the villagers were…evicted…by a band or orcs, who promptly moved in. They in turn were slaughtered by a tribe of ogres, who fell to the combined might of a family of wyverns. And so the cycle went, until the Tantras Moutains came to house the fiercest, darkest creatures in the land. The Church of Light had, of course, sent a squad of paladins to deal with the threat; the monsters in turn sent a thank you note for the wonderful meal, and could they please send toothpicks next time? The Church tried several more times before finally giving it up as hopeless. They passed the monster infestation off on the 'sin' of their followers, and immediately upped their taxes (the Church has always been adept at turning something negative into something positive).  
  
Under normal circumstances Discord would have found the death and decay about her delightful, but this was hardly normal circumstances. For one thing, rare was the day that she actually received work. And Discord had better things to do. Like her hair. Not to mention the inordinate amount of time she had invested in this already. In her time up on the mountain, she had run into everything from trolls to pixies – perverted pixies. Not that she found that disturbing - far from it – but when the species in question was pixies, she'd rather see them mounted on spears of Unholy Flame for all eternity. Just too damn cute. And to top it all off, it was misty. Not only had she fallen off the mountain more times than she cared to remember, it wreaked complete havoc with delicate complexion to boot. If she hadn't been petrified of Xan's response, she would have flounced back to him in a second.  
  
"Dammit!" she fumed, kicking a pebble off the mountain face and into the mists below. "Maybe that bastard could've been a little more specific when he said 'cave'. Maybe living in one for the past thousand years has given him some kind of – kind of…" she searched her rather limited vocabulary for the word, "cave-identifying sixth-sense radar, but the rest of can't classify holes by sight! And now my hair is frizzy and my clothes are wet and I'm freezing my ass off, dammit!" She continued her tirade against Xan, Trias, and the world in general – all of which were actively seeking her destruction out of sheer jealousy. She kicked another pebble into the fog ahead of her.  
  
With a small crack, the rock hit a solid surface and rebounded back. Discord, completely engaged in her own inner monologue, paid it no notice. Until she hit that same wall. Then she gave it plenty of attention. And more than a few choice words as well.  
  
When she had suitably composed herself, she stepped back to examine her surroundings. Quite by accident, she had wandered onto a plateau of sorts – the first she had come across in her search. Very little was discernable through the heavy mist, but she could vaguely make out the outline of a large cavern on the mountain face, several meters to the left of where she had collided. The interior was far darker than it should have been. She stepped closer to examine it.  
  
The mist had warped its appearance – it was far larger than it seemed from afar. It had to have been at least fifty feet tall, and at least that in width. The mist was especially heavy in front of the entrance, most likely due to the unusual heat emanating from within. This last finally registered in Discord's brain. Cold outside. Warm inside. Even she could make the connection. Forgetting all her reservations, Discord quickly stepped into the cavern. She had never been one to argue with candy from strangers – or jewels, or money…whatever they happened to have on their person.  
  
Once inside, she took a moment to warm herself before again surveying her surroundings. Her eyes widened. Just a short distance away lay all the riches she could have ever wanted. Piles of gold, mountains of jewels, all floated…floated? She squinted and looked closer. Indeed, the piles of riches seemed to float high above the ground. Of course, that could be due to the inky blackness in front of it – that same blackness that had barred sight from afar. And now that she was listening, there was that odd whistling sound…  
  
Large piles of jewels. Giant shadow. Snoring. All equals Discord runs like the Legions of Light were behind her while she can. Smarts she may have lacked, but animal cunning she had in droves. And no sane animal ever stays in a shadow dragon's cave if they can help it.  
  
Once safely outside – and several hundred feet away – she stopped to catch her breath. And then she finally began to understand Xan's cryptic message.  
  
"That bastard!" she shrieked, her voice echoing off the mountain heights. Her eyes widened when she realized the possible repercussions; checking frantically about her, she finally assured herself that the dragon had not heard her. There were some things even a Minion of Darkness would hesitate to tackle, and an adult shadow dragon was certainly one of them. Especially considering Discord's combat skills – or lack thereof. If she couldn't seduce it, she ran as fast and as far as her high-heels would let her.  
  
"He knew this would happen," she continued in a subdued tone. "An 'old friend', he says. 'Sleeping', he says. I bet he's laughing right now! Well, I'll show him! I can do anything I put my mind to! Just look at how hot and bothered I can make him," she added with a wicked smile.  
  
"Now," she resumed thoughtfully, beginning to pace, "Xan wants me to wake him up and recruit him. …Xan wants me to wake a shadow dragon up from its pleasant dreams into a misty nightmare of split ends. I hate to think of what this means about my relative importance…" she mused, paling slightly. "So I'd better get on Xan's good side from now on…if he has one, anyway. But, um…" she paused, having lost her train of thought. "Oh yes. The dragon. The big, scary shadow dragon. Who probably thinks I'm more scrumptious than seductive. I need to wake him up without losing my head…  
  
"What I need is a realistic assessment of my strengths…" she looked herself over, then brightened. "Well, what do you know! I have two great ones right here! More than enough for any man! Now how to apply that to this?" She bit her lip in concentration. "Aha!" She slapped a fist into her palm – something she assumed victorious people did, as Xan had often done it…but then again, it probably meant something more along the lines of 'Oh damn, lost again, time to hit something'. "How could I forget? I'm gorgeous! Gorgeous people glide through life! I'll just get someone else to do it for me!" Her eyes brightened even more. "The pixies! I knew the little perverts would be useful for something! Time to fetch the bait…" she set off down the mountain, trailing laughter in her wake.  
  
The pixies lived in a small village near the base of one of the mountains – they had a tendency to get lightheaded rather easily. Not surprisingly, these pixies were all male – which certainly accounted for their raucous behavior. Any proper female pixie (ie. prude) would have smacked them on the head and made them sleep with the dog – or butterfly, as the case may be. It should be noted that pixies were normally a very quiet, very subdued people. Apparently these adolescents had had their fill of that, and had decided to leave to form their own fun-filled colony. In the middle of the woods. …Pixies are still pixies, after all (ie. pansies).  
  
In short order Discord had located the pixie village. It was so small she had nearly missed it. The entire village was located in the branches of several large overhanging tree branches. She was still dozens of yards away, yet the pixies could still be heard singing dwarven drinking songs. She steeled herself to deal with the disgusting creatures, putting on her most sultry face and slinking forward.  
  
The pixies caught sight of her well before she did them. Within seconds they had her surrounded, weaving in unsteady circles – more like oblongs – around her. These pixies could have taught Trias a thing or two about midday drinking.  
  
"Well, how're you boys doing?" she asked upon reaching the village center – a ramshackle affair consisting of used ale kegs roped together in some semblance of a platform.  
  
The pixies took a moment to confer. They pushed forward their elected representative, a prime specimen of gangly pixie adolescence. He cleared his throat and leaned forward solemnly.  
  
"We'sh…good." He did his best not to leer. (See how well men can behave when they want something?)  
  
"Oh, well, that's a pity…" Discord pouted, turning to leave.  
  
"NO!" the pixies screamed as one, dropping their liquor in their haste to head off the pretty woman. "We'sh awful," the spokesman amended, clutching his head dramatically.  
  
"Oh, okay then." Discord turned back around. "So…what are you fine young gentlemen doing?"  
  
"Drinking!" was the enthusiastic response.  
  
"That sounds boring –" Discord began.  
  
"NO!" came the vehement denial.  
  
"What I meant was…I can think of a few more interesting things to do…" she trailed off suggestively.  
  
The pixies took a moment to digest this. Like a donkey tied to a waterwheel, their thoughts kept returning to the same thing – pretty girl. Here. And for once, they weren't the ones hitting on her.  
  
"So, are we on? I know a nice little place where we can all be…alone…" The pixies began to drool. "So are we on?" Discord arched a perfectly formed eyebrow.  
  
"Ash long ash we'sh on you!" one anonymous pixie in the back called out lewdly. That opened the floodgates. By the time they had reached the shadow dragon's cave once more, the pixies were all singing songs to make a sailor blush.  
  
"This is it, boys! Go on in, I'll just need a moment to get myself prettied up…" she gestured them into the cave. The pixies didn't need a second invitation. When they had all disappeared within, Discord jumped behind a protruding rock and waited.  
  
She didn't have to wait long.  
  
"P-A-R-T-Y! Party Hearty, let's all get high! And when we party, we party hearty!" the pixies chanted rhythmically, growing louder with each passing second. One of them finally had the presence of mind to note that something was amiss.  
  
"Lookie, lookie! My shadow's bigger 'an yours!" the observant(?) little fellow called out.  
  
"No, ish my shadow! See, I moved my hand! And it moved too!"  
  
"No! Mine! It hash indigeshun like me! Ish making noi-"  
  
A huge stream of shadowy tendrils shot out of the cavern opening, silencing the pixies once and for all. An even darker shadow soon followed it out. It was immense – far larger than it had appeared in the cavern. From snout to tailtip he was at least a hundred feet long. He didn't look to be scaled so much as covered in a shifting, ethereal mass of shadows. His claws and fangs, however, looked real enough. His maw was large enough to swallow a man whole – or woman, to Discord's immense dread. It stretched its wings and looked about it.  
  
"Well, that was certainly peculiar," the dragon hissed to himself, its voice the sound of sliding silk. "But just as well. I have slumbered for far too long…I don't recall there ever being a mountain here…" he peered quizzically into the concealing mist.  
  
Discord took this as her cue. She leapt out from behind the rock – and leapt right back when the dragon directed his breath at her.  
  
"Wait!" she yelled, huddling behind the slim protection her rock offered her. "My Master sent me here to find you!" she peeked out hopefully.  
  
The dragon didn't seem to be particularly moved by this earth-shattering revelation. He sneered, revealing row upon row of razor-sharp teeth. "I am not interested in embracing the glory of your Church or your puny god. Nor am I afraid of the 'righteous fury of your Lance of Rabbit-Slaying, or whatever you call your favorite bashing stick. I am much more interested in whether humans still taste like chicken after all these years." He inhaled again.  
  
"You have it all wrong!" Discord hastily corrected him from behind her shelter. "I serve Xan, the Unholy Blight! He said you two were 'old friends'!" She braced herself for the inevitable impact.  
  
When no such impact was forthcoming, she gathered her courage to peek at the dragon. He was regarding her as a mouse would regard a cat – the mouse knows itself to be the superior of the two…but the bloody cat has a master with ratpoison, for the gods' sakes.  
  
The dragon sighed and deflated. "Ahh, I was merely fooling myself to think that this day would never come. Suffice it to say, I owe this Master of yours several favors," he elaborated for Discord's benefit, "and he is most unforgiving when it comes to the repayment of those debts."  
  
"Sure, at least you don't have to live with him…" Discord muttered, stepping out from behind the boulder.  
  
"But before we 'hammer out the details', as they say, I would know certain things. What has transpired during the past thousand or so years of my sleep?"  
  
Discord thought for a second. "Well, let me see…lots of people died, some people got born again, The Church did stuff…um, things went boom…" she trailed off, biting her lip nervously. "You know, I really haven't kept track of anything past that whole climactic Final Battle of Good and Evil…"  
  
The dragon checked his ire. "What Final Battle do you speak of?" he asked mildly, restraining the impulse to gut her and make her a finger puppet.  
  
Discord explained the entire incident, with more than a few prods from the dragon. When she had finished, he sat back and considered his new circumstances.  
  
"What that means is that that buffoon Trias has gained the upper hand. That does not bode well for me…not well at all…"  
  
"So then this wouldn't really be repaying any favor, since you're getting as much out of this as Xan is…" she pointed out shrewdly.  
  
"I am far larger and stronger than you. I suggest you stop there."  
  
Discord took the hint.  
  
After some time spent in meditative silence, the dragon spoke once more. "Well then, I am amenable to your proposition. What exactly shall this entail?" he asked.  
  
Discord fidgeted a bit. "Um..well, you see, I don't exactly…know." She flinched as the dragon lowered his head down to her eye level. "But Xan did say that it would involve getting back Trias for everything he's done to us!" Her fist clenched at her side. "But any more than that, Master Dragon, I can't really say…" She chuckled nervously.  
  
"Master Dragon…?" he asked curiously. "Ahh, I see. You require my name. My people call me Llanthrixilasthra'ak."  
  
Discord blinked.  
  
Llanthrixila…er, the dragon…directed a longing gaze towards his cavern. So much simpler to just avoid all these nuisances and return to his rest…  
  
"Llaen, I suppose, shall have to do," the dragon finally replied. "I recall a particular human who went by that name. As I recall, he lasted nearly an entire minute. Then I awoke and had to kill him."  
  
"Alright then, Llaen it is," Discord readily agreed. As if she would argue with a dragon. "But, um, that does leave us with one more problem…"she trailed off under Llaen's arch stare.  
  
"And what would that be, puny one?" he asked contemptuously.  
  
"Well, a shadow dragon is likely to attract attention in any sort of situation…"  
  
'So?" Llaen snorted. "I shall rend all who stand in my way into so many tattered shreds of bloody worm-flesh."  
  
Discord gulped. And stepped out of his way. "Well, I'm sure you could, but, uhh, I think Xan is aiming for a more undercover sort of operation…"  
  
"I suppose you do have a point there…" Llaen conceded grudgingly. He muttered a few liquid phrases, and was enveloped by a blazing light. When the light had dissipated, an altogether unremarkable man stood in the dragon's place. He was of average height and build, with dark eyes and black shoulder-length hair. His clothes were strictly utilitarian.  
  
"Well, is this any better?" he asked archly, indicating his new form.  
  
"I guess," Discord replied, shrugging a shoulder. It was hardly up to her demanding standards. They never were. "Now all that's left is for you to contact Xan yourself and find out the details. Um…you can contact him, right?"  
  
Llaen gave her a condescending look. "Of course I can. Now, we both have tasks to accomplish…" he looked pointedly at Discord, who was busy filing her nails. "I mean that you should leave. Now." He shot a parting stream of shadows at her from his palm before turning and stalking back into his lair.  
  
Discord didn't have to be told twice. She headed back to Xan's cavern as fast as her heels could take her. Work was definitely overrated. When she got back she'd have to convince Xan of that. Entropy was ugly enough to haul both their loads anyway.  
  
* * * *  
  
"Here's to our success!" Xan said merrily, raising his wine glass. Entropy and Discord followed suit. The two had returned several hours previous, and Xan, in as bright a mood as they had ever seen him, had insisted they celebrate.  
  
"To our success." The glasses clinked together.  
  
"But, Xan," Discord asked, "what makes you sure we'll win this time? I mean, we never won before…"  
  
"Oh yesss, the whore quessstionss the Massster once more," Entropy hissed mockingly. The two didn't have the best of relationships.  
  
"Shut up, you stupid snake!" Discord shrieked back, dropping into her mercenary captain voice. "At least I have hair! And it's beautiful too!" She flipped it over her shoulder and stuck her tongue out at the simmering Entropy.  
  
"Now, now, let's not fight," Xan admonished. For once, his eye didn't begin to twitch. He was in high spirits indeed.  
  
"And to answer Discord's question, there's no way I can lose this contest. Evil will win because Good is fat and stupid with one too many drinks under the lid." He poured himself another drink.  
  
"No argument there," Discord agreed. She relaxed once more.  
  
"And yet," Entropy began hesistantly, "Fat and ssstupid Triass may be, but hisss championsss may yet prove to be an obssssstacle." He looked worried – and with good reason. He'd been on the receiving end of many a hero's sword.  
  
"Well, if it would stop all your complaining, I suppose we can cheat a tad…"  
  
The two Minions nodded vigorously. Cheating was the Evil Way, after all.  
  
…That and murder, lying, theft, arson…  
  
"Very well." Xan reflected for a moment. "Well, I suppose we can just send them off now to wreak their havoc. We'll just tell Trias that we're giving him the head start."  
  
"Alright! That's great!" Discord exclaimed delightedly, clapping her hands.  
  
"You sssstill underesstimate thessse heroessss…" Entropy replied, not completely reassured.  
  
Xan airily waved a hand. "Ha! I know my brother. If anything, he'll just get roaring drunk and choose some harlots plying their trade outside one of his temples!" 


	6. Enter The Hero - Kicking & Screaming

"Hey, handsome, looking for a good time?" one of the woman hollered.  
  
"You looked stressed, why not relax with us for a while?" another added.  
  
"Sorry, girls," Valtaires called back regretfully. "But I've got business inside the temple."  
  
"Oooh…kinky."  
  
"Er…okay." Val entered the temple, eyeing the women until they dropped out of sight.  
  
The Temple of Hroth-Sul (so named after its' founder) was a massive building, although its' delicate structure made it appear somewhat smaller than it actually was. On the interior, an enormous sermon hall took up most of the space. It was ornately decorated with gold plating and stained glass mosaics. A raised platform some ten or so feet off the ground housed the lecturing priest. A small wooden door in the back led to the clerics' quarters, although the general populace was never allowed anywhere near. The sun had set several hours earlier, and thus the entire area was lit by hundreds of light spells – an ostentatious display of Church power.  
  
Currently, a rather corpulent cleric was passionately giving a sermon on – Val presumed – the evils of Evil. Several families sat in the front, eyes glazed over with religious fervor…and occasionally toppling over. Several others families were fighting a losing battle against slumber. And the vast majority of families were visiting their sick grandmothers. Regardless, the cleric rambled on, seemingly unaware of his less-than- thrilled audience – or merely enthralled by his own voice.  
  
Val quietly took a seat near the front, directly in front of the cleric. Time to start working for his pay.  
  
"…Evil must be resisted wherever it lurks," the rotund cleric bellowed. "Remember, my faithful, it is not truly paranoia if they're really out to get you! Resist the evil rabbit demons! I refuse thee, rabbitspawn!! I refuse-" He looked up to find Val sitting quietly, staring at him. He lost his place, shocked beyond words at Val's appearance. He wore a black cloak, the cowl raised and covering much of his face in shadows. A blood-red eyepatch covered his right eye, but the second one – white as frost – bored into the flustered cleric. Several daggers could be seen poking out his boots, and a rather beaten-looking sword hung from his hip. From the sheltered cleric's perspective, it was as if the very gates of the Abyss had opened.  
  
"Yes, my faithful? You have a question? Ask, and it shall be answered by the wise Theodoric," the portly cleric stammered, beginning to sweat profusely.  
  
"Oh, umm, right." Val paused for a moment to think. "Would you believe that I'm here for your soul?" he ventured.  
  
With an inarticulate scream, the cleric jumped off the dais and ran, flailing, out of the temple. He was screaming something about the 'evil rabbit demons come to devour his soul'. Coming from a cleric, most people ignored him.  
  
"Well, what can you expect?" Val sighed mournfully. "Those clerics are even crazier than I am. Ah, well." He jumped atop the dais and hailed the crowd. "Run free my people! You are free! Free to run and frolic through the streets! Free to get roaring drunk and marry your horse!" With a great cheer, the remaining worshippers ran out the temple doors.  
  
Val surveyed the sermon hall, ensuring that he was alone. When he was satisfied that no one remained, he slipped through the small wooden door into the clerics' quarters.  
  
He found himself in a long, dimly lit hallway. Several dozen doors lined both walls. He swore softly. His employers hadn't told him there would be complications. He knelt by the first door and traced a few glowing runes on the surface.  
  
The door shimmered and vanished – well, not vanish so much as turn transparent. Inside a grotesquely obese man slept, ale bottle in hand. A trickle of drool ran from the corner of his lip onto his pillow. He was exactly as Val had envisioned the Abbot – but further examination of the room yielded nothing besides piles of empty ale bottles and heaps of dirty portraits.  
  
He spent considerably more time at the next few doors. Apparently, women could become priests too. It was almost enough to make one want to convert.  
  
He finally found the correct room nearly an hour later. The door appeared normal enough, but it was always best to test for traps. Priests could be right bastards that way.  
  
Val murmured a small cantrip, causing nearly every room in the hall to grow red briefly. He whistled softly. The Church certainly spared no expense.  
  
"Lucky for me clerics are such pansies when it comes to spellcasting," he chuckled to himself. Tracing an intricate rune in the air, he had the wards disabled in a heartbeat. He crept into the Abbot's room, careful to keep the door from squeaking as he did so.  
  
For a man of such power, the Abbot of Hroth-Sul Temple certainly didn't look the part. He rather resembled a wrinkled prune. He couldn't have been a day under eighty, but he looked to be twice that. He slept in his ceremonial robes, and clutched his staff of office to his chest as he murmured in his sleep. Just beyond him, on his writing desk, lay the artifacts Val had been sent to acquire – a faded parchment map and a nondescript brown book. He pussyfooted over, taking care to stay to the walls, where the floorboards were less likely to creak.  
  
He was just slipping the artifacts into his cloak when the Abbot stirred. Val froze, hastily fingering through the gestures of a sleep spell.  
  
"Lestor," the Abbot grumbled, not bothering to open his eyes, "fetch me my smiting stick!" He waved a weak fist in the air.  
  
Val relaxed. The old man was obviously senile. He retreated into the nearby shadows, just in case. "Beg your pardon?" he droned in his best monotone.  
  
"It's these filthy unbelievers, Lestor," the ancient Abbot groused. "They all prance around in those skimpy clothes – I can see these women's ankles, by Trias –"  
  
"Yes, you should watch that heart of yours."  
  
"-And refusing to obey my divine words!" the Abbot continued. "Why, back in my day, I'd have stoned them all! I was a one-man stoning brigade, I was. Left, right, it was whack-a-heathen-discount-day, yes it was! Filthy unbelievers…" he dozed back off.  
  
"Hmm, of course we believe in Trias, we just don't believe in Trias. Lady Luck's all the divine aid I'll ever need," Val whispered to the comatose Abbot. He crept towards the door once more.  
  
"I shall smite thee!" the Abbot screamed out, coughing up a lung in the process. "Eh? Wha…? Oh, well, perhaps I could smite the heathen filth if someone would bring me my smiting stick! Lestor, step on it, by Trias!" The Abbot waved his staff of office in the air threateningly, before the weight became too much for his frail arms to support.  
  
"Yes, I was going to get it right now, you desiccated old reptile!" Val snapped, dropping the pretense and marching out the door.  
  
The Abbot lay there for several long moments, stunned. Finally:  
  
"Why, the sheer impudence! A few stonings would do that Lestor a world of good!"  
  
* * *  
  
Valtaires stepped into a dimly lit tavern, the Smoking Dragon. Few bothered to look up at his entrance. The Smoking Dragon was a haven for outlaws, thieves, assassins, and the other less savory elements of society. It was located in plain sight just outside the docks district, but only the terminally insane would have ventured within without an invitation. To the City Guard it was a nuisance they hadn't the power the rid themselves of. To Valtaires, it was his home away from home.  
  
Once his eyes had adapted to the light, he surveyed the room for his clients. He found them in one of the darker corners of the room, observing him intently. A chill ran down his spine – as it always did when he laid sight on these two. At first glance, they resembled two cutthroats – hardly out of place in this tavern. Yet, there was something subtly wrong with them – something in the way their eyes looked, in the way they walked, in the way they spoke. Nothing he could consciously single out, but all those thousand little things all added up into mother's 'Don't play with strangers'. Val sighed. These two were about as strange as they came.  
  
He made his way over, pulling up a seat. His clients glanced at one another, then back at him.  
  
"You have the artifacts?" the first asked in a sibilant whisper.  
  
"Yes, I have the artifacts," Val replied loudly. "And quit that whispering, it's bloody annoying!"  
  
"Very well then, give them to us," the second demanded, only slightly louder.  
  
"Uh-huh." Val nodded skeptically, keeping his spoils safely tucked away in his cloak. "And then we can all go frolic in the land of Magical Naked Ogres. Payment first. Then you get you precious little 'artifacts.'"  
  
The two looked at each other once more. "I am afraid you have misunderstood our agreement, Master Greywind," the first began.  
  
Val's eyes narrowed. "No, I don't think I have. I risked my life entering that temple to steal your little toys – from under the Abbot's nose, no less! – and now-"  
  
"Perhaps we were mistaken. We assumed you would be more than happy to disgrace the Church of Light," the second interjected.  
  
"Yeah, well, I like to keep my personal life and my business life separated," Val replied dryly. "Now I strongly suggest you just hand over what you promised."  
  
"We promised nothing. This was merely a test," the second said smugly.  
  
"You passed," the first added.  
  
"I jump for joy," Val said sarcastically. "Look, the basic problem with hiring someone to do something you can't would be that that someone could kick both your asses. Kay?" he asked sweetly.  
  
They both laughed weirdly. "Once again you misunderstand. Entering that temple would have been most uncomfortable for us. That is all."  
  
Val frowned slightly. This was spiraling out of his control. He didn't like that. "Yeah, it was no walk in the park for me either. I think you two need to be taken down a notch or two. I say we just settle this right now." He stood up and laid his hand on the pommel of his sword.  
  
The two laughed again. "We have a much more pleasing solution. Hypothetically, if we were to rip off that cloak, what do you suppose we would find?" the first asked. The second was still laughing.  
  
"Erm, mayhaps a bugbear? The secret of life? My startlingly feminine figure?" Val replied innocently.  
  
"I believe we would find an elf."  
  
"Shhh!" Val hissed, glancing around the room frantically. No one seemed to have heard.  
  
"And what do you suppose these people would do if they found an elf in their midst?" they asked rhetorically. "I don't believe humans are very tolerant of the other races. Perhaps they would flay you alive? Draw and quarter you? Or perhaps even-"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, you proved your point. What do you want?" Val asked resignedly.  
  
"The artifacts, of course."  
  
Val shoved the map and book across the table, muttering dire imprecations. His clients' eyes lit up when they caught sight of them. They reverently picked them.  
  
"These are what we have searched so long for…" the second whispered, fingering through the book.  
  
"The Keys…" the first added, poring over the map.  
  
Val coughed loudly, cutting short their reverie. "Well, I see you're both pleased, so off I go. Pleasure to serve, and all that rot." He made for the door.  
  
Not fast enough. "Master Greywind, we are not quite finished with you yet," the first called out, stopping Val in his tracks. "This was merely the test. We still have several more tasks for you to complete."  
  
Valtaires glared daggers at them. He still sat down. Did he really have a choice?  
  
* * *  
  
"No, Lord, I am afraid that Trixie and Linda would not make decent champions," Integrity sighed for the hundredth time.  
  
"Whysh not!?" Trias bellowed belligerently.  
  
"Why? Why, they're whores, Lord."  
  
"There yoush goesh, judging persons again!" Trias hollered, taking another drought from his ale jug. "Alwaysh judging peoples, you are! I'sh sick of yoursh labels!" He belched.  
  
"Quite right, Lord. You're a drunken lech no matter what I label you."  
  
"Ha! Mebbe drunk enough for yoush, but nots for me!" He poured himself another drink. "Now, aboot Zora…"  
  
Integrity sighed once more. They'd been having this argument for the past week – which of Trias' favorite girls to choose. And then of course Integrity would have to dissuade him, only to have him pick another harlot. Fortunately, he was saved from having to go through the ordeal by the appearance of Harmony, Trias' other right-hand Servant of Justice.  
  
"What is it, Harmony?" Integrity asked of her.  
  
"Bad news, I'm afraid," she replied sadly. "The Keys have been stolen from the Temple of Hroth-Sul. The Abbot is in quite a knot about it to. When I went down to investigate, he was barricaded behind his door with a pile of rocks, singing some old marching song."  
  
"I knew we should have relocated those Keys – or the Abbot – but I never thought they would move so quickly…" Integrity fretted, beginning to pace.  
  
"Well, don't think too much about it. We'll get them, sooner or later," she tried to reassure him.  
  
"It's the 'later' I'm worried about…" he sighed. "But I suppose we can do nothing about it now, so best not to worry."  
  
Harmony nodded. "So, what are you two doing?" she asked, indicating Trias.  
  
Integrity groaned. "What do you suppose? Our Lord is still fixated on his girls. He won't listen to reason."  
  
Harmony nodded sympathetically. "Well, here's an idea, if you're open to suggestions."  
  
"Please, do."  
  
"Why not ask him to send out someone from Hroth-Sul Temple to find the missing Keys? If they succeed, well then, we have one champion down."  
  
"Well, I suppose anything is worth a try…" Integrity agreed. The two went over to Trias and attracted his attention.  
  
"Lord, we've come up with a proposition on this matter," Integrity began. "As you may have heard, the Keys have been stolen…" he paused for dramatic emphasis.  
  
Trias snorted. "Dat's why we'sh make copies…"  
  
"I'm afraid we can't make copies of these Keys, Trias," Harmony berated him gently.  
  
"As I was saying," Integrity resumed, "This theft is a timely event for us, as we are searching for worthy champions-"  
  
"Trixie'sh worthy…" Trias mumbled into his glass.  
  
"And we are thus provided with a golden opportunity here," he continued without missing a beat. "We can send a champion out from Hroth- Sul Temple, and if he succeeds, then we have found our champion. All we need is your approval to set events in motion…" Integrity waited for a response.  
  
And waited.  
  
"Now you can speak, Trias," Harmony prodded him.  
  
"Eh? Okey-dokey!" Trias thought hard. "So…any heroesh who wins will be our championsh?" he asked.  
  
"Yes…" Integrity responded guardedly.  
  
"Wellsh! Sends out da pretty girls!"  
  
"No, you missed the point entirely," Integrity began vainly.  
  
"HA! Sends out da pretties girl in da Temple! She'll smite dem bad guys! SMITE!" He began to sing off-key.  
  
Integrity turned to Harmony.  
  
"I don't suppose there's a deep, dark hole where we can stick him…"  
  
"Integrity!" 


End file.
